[SE] for a moment I forget to worry

A m a l i a She has gotten far too deep into things again, poked a wound not fully healed. Never tactful, always curious, Amalia continues to listen as Emmett speaks, silently wondering why she thought she could possibly help. Still the girl does her best, head tilting curiously dark eyes scanning the farmer's face. She nods when he mentions being sick, sympathetically tugging at her hair, a shadow passing over her as she remembers Long Night's toll. "You were lucky to have her-" and she tries to keep the bitterness from her voice, the loneliness she felt on those days of recovery, the pain and loss and fear. There is a rosiness which tints her cheeks as he mentions closeness, unsure if his implications are what she thinks they may be. If so... well, she is not sure what to think. Intimacy after loss seems like a lot to ask for, and Amalia cannot imagine that is the extent of the concern. Chewing delicately at her lip, Amalia tries to find the words to both comfort and guide. In the end, she thinks of her grandmother again: empathize, don't eulogize. "That sounds difficult. But also like you're taking good steps." Pressing her fingers to the counter, she drums a thoughtful pattern on the wood. "Aren't Remi and Phoebe from the same place? They must be like family." She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine